


Flint and Steel

by feelgoodache, LtIrrelevant



Category: E.R.
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelgoodache/pseuds/feelgoodache, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtIrrelevant/pseuds/LtIrrelevant
Summary: A broken face. A place to stay. Curiosity. Love.





	1. The Doctor is always in

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you enjoy our work! There haven't been many recent Suby fics, so we went ahead and fixed that.

Susan

 

I've always liked the negative side of the brain because it's where the truth lies.

 

And the truth can be fucking  _ ugly _ .

 

The truth can be powerful, liberating, and can lead a smart woman to do stupid things. Tonight, it led me to share a bed with her, curled up while she snored through the oblivion of her dreams. It's 5:45 in the morning and the sun is working on making its presence known through the curtains. I haven't slept yet because I've been preoccupied, watching her sleep. 

 

She was burdened by fear and pain as I patched her up yesterday, her face bruised and swollen from the assault by her asshole neighbor. Of course Abby Lockhart would risk getting her face smashed in trying to protect another woman from abuse. She declined my offer for a place to crash until her place was safe, gave me a weak smile, then assured me she was alright. 

 

She showed up unexpectedly later that night, worn and asking if she could take me up on my offer. I didn't ask, but apparently staying at Luka’s like she planned didn't work out. I set her up in the guest room, gave her a Vicodin for the pain and a Valium to help her relax, then returned to my own bed. I had almost dozed off about an hour later when my bedroom door opened. Abby shuffled in slowly, her eyes half open, half glazed. I turned on my side to see her clearer as she approached my bed, softly calling out to her with no response.

 

Damned if she wasn't sleepwalking.

 

The medical doctor in me dictated that I not try to wake her up. I deduced that the combination of benzodiazepines and opioids was the likely catalyst for her somnambulism. However, the rest of me froze in panic when she crawled into bed next to me and curled up against me.

 

She let out a snort and started snoring, resuming her adventures in REM sleep. I was still for twenty minutes or so, silently listening to her breathing for signs of apnea.

 

_ The Doctor is always on duty.  _

 

I had plenty of time to consider how to handle this encounter. There will be a healthy share of awkwardness tomorrow when she finds out where she ended up, the bulk falling on my side of the bed. I’d never spooned another woman before. The way she sighed happily suggested that maybe she had before, though. 

 

Around 3:30, I tentatively draped an arm over her hip. I found myself marveling at her body, squeezed tight against me. I could feel her responding to my presence, to the softness and warmth. I never would have imagined that I could be aroused by another woman, but here I am, aroused and confused.

 

The clock’s numbers, an electric red, now signaled it was 6:30. Neither of us work today, so I'll get a few hours of sleep and sort this situation out later. I closed my eyes, willing myself into unconsciousness, lulled by the scent of her hair. Lemon and antiseptic?

 

I considered the truth again, and the truth was that even just for one night, it was nice to not have to sleep alone.


	2. The Abby Fuck Up Scale

Abby

 

I awoke, groggy and disoriented from a throbbing headache, the first in years so far as I could recall. My thoughts seem thick and tangled, and I refused open my eyes. It takes a moment to realize that my body is curled against someone and I have no idea where I am or who I am with. At least I still have clothes on.

 

_ Jesus Christ, Lockhart, what have you done now?  _

 

Their arm protectively wrapped around my midsection, their body heat resonating off me soothingly. It was pretty damn comfortable, but I had to face reality. 

 

I opened my eyes, hissing as direct sunlight scorches my retinas. My eye, still battered from that bastard’s assault, was tender and aching like nobody’s business. Piece by piece, the night before slowly came into focus. What I don't know is how I got into her  _ bed _ . Fuck my life.

 

“Doctor Lewis?” I rasp pathetically. My throat might as well be the Sahara Desert. This feels like a hangover, even though I haven’t been drunk in eons. 

 

She stirs behind me, retracting her arm quickly, as if in fear of being burned. I slowly turn and face her. She looks like she's been caught doing something bad...or  _ wrong _ . I blink at her a few times, trying to remember in vain. Why did she look so mortified? “Uh, how did I end up in your bed?” 

 

I meant it as a joke, but she heaves a sigh and stares at the comforter for a moment as if it’s the most fascinating thing on the planet. 

“You were sleepwalking,” she muttered, “You just walked right in, got in bed, and cuddled up to me. You know as well as I do that I shouldn't have tried to wake you up.” 

 

My eyebrows rose in surprise. This was luckily only mildly embarrassing on the Abby Fuck Up Scale.

 

“Shit. I haven't sleepwalked since I was ten.” A small smirk found its way to my mouth, the one I make when I’m half curious, half amused. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It's ok, Abby. And you can call me Susan,” She finally offered me a smile, her shyness apparently beginning to wain a bit, “You've slept with me, after all.” 

 

A deep blush spread like a rash across her fair skin.

 

“Besides, it was nice to have another body in my bed,”  She gnawed on her bottom lip, the tips of her ears turned red, completing the image of embarrassment. I sat up in the bed and regarded her for a moment.

 

“How many other women have had the privilege of waking up in your bed and calling you Susan?” I was going for utter shock value and I am not disappointed with her response. She sat bolt upright in bed, an indescribable look on her face.

 

“What? I--none!” she indignantly sputtered, absolutely purple with humiliation. “I've never--” 

 

I cut her off with a snort of laughter and the biggest grin my battered face allowed for. When I winced in pain, we both shared a smile.

 

“That’s the last time I smartass someone with a swollen face,” I said, raising my hands in a white flag gesture of peace. I tentatively raised my hand and touched my swollen eye that felt more like a malignant tumor, wincing against the pain.

 

She huffed and rolled her eyes, knowing she'd been had. With a groan she stiffly got out of bed and padded out of the bedroom, vaguely mumbling something about coffee in my direction.


	3. Innuendo

Susan

 

I went with her to her place so she could get some clothes and other necessities.  She paused en route through the living room with an almost imperceptible shudder before marching on, leaving me in the kitchen. I noticed a few splatters of blood on the counter and quickly cleaned it up before she reappeared, wielding a large suitcase. She paused in the middle of the living room again and looked around, her face a mask of alarming detachment. 

 

“Abby?” I ventured, frowning at how haunted she seemed. Her brown eyes snapped to mine and blinked, like she was trying to clear the bad memories of the other night from her memory. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” she replied with that tough-as-nails smile that wasn’t exactly fooling anybody. “It’s just a lot to take in, honestly.”

 

I gave her a small smile and approached her, laying a hand on her shoulder. 

 

“You can stay with me as long as you need.” 

 

She looked like she was about to refuse my offer so I preempted her with a squeeze on her shoulder. “I mean it.” 

 

With a resolute nod of her head, she led us out of her apartment without looking back. We were halfway back to my place before she finally spoke again.

 

“Susan?” I briefly glanced over at her as I shifted into 4th gear. “Thanks for not kicking me out of your bed.”  

 

Her gaze is piercing and honest, but I can't help chortling at the innuendo. 

 

_ God, Chloe would have a field day with this.  _

 

“It’s no problem, really,” I gave her a thousand watt smile as I shifted into fifth gear. A reciprocal smile slowly formed on her face. “I’m happy to help.”

 

“I'm just honored that I'm the first woman you slept with,” she said, grinning as she erupted into tiny fits of laughter. I groaned and slumped down in my seat a bit. I was never going to hear the end of  _ that _ from Abigail Lockhart.

 

“And what about  _ you _ , wise ass? How many women have  _ you _ kicked out of bed?” I asked, rolling my eyes. 

 

I glanced over with an eyebrow raised in question when she didn't immediately answer. She drew out the contemplation of her answer, probably to get me worked up again. I wasn't going to fall for it this time.

 

“Three. One I even let stick around for a while,” she replied with a shrug and a sliver of a smile. “I adhered to the typical ‘college experimentation’ creed.” 

 

I let out a snort of amusement.

 

“I mean, I made out with a girl at a party once when I was an undergrad, but that's pretty much an obligatory rite of passage,” I retorted, gesturing with my right hand as I took it off the gear shift. “You actually  _ slept _ with those women? Like, had sex with them?”

 

Abby’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she seemed confused by the question for a moment.

 

“No, we sat around braiding each other’s hair,” she replied, rolling her eyes and grinning in an artificially irritated way. “Of course I slept with them. Aroused them, caressed them,  _ fucked  _ them. That kind of thing.”

 

_ Alrighty then.  _

 

I quickly snapped my mouth closed from its hinged open disposition, sufficiently silenced and possibly aroused.


	4. Chocolate

 

Abby

 

We arrived back at her place with still a considerable chunk of the night at our disposal. It took two trips for us to collect everything I had thrown into the little luggage that I actually possessed, but once we were done with the heavy lifting, we sat in the kitchen, heaving and wheezing slightly like two fat girls who had never once seen the inside of a gym. 

 

“Are you crashing here, or staying for life?” Susan asked. I smiled in response, but merely shrugged my shoulders and raised my hands in the universal “who knows?” gesture. “I’m no expert, but I’d say your stuff weighs a ton.”

 

“That depends on whether your bed is fair game,” I said, finally catching my breath. She paused for a moment, and I was unsure if the lesbian jokes had outlived their usefulness. I affected a hurt tone as I stood up and moved towards the kitchen counter. “Oh come on, I’m the best little spoon there is,  _ Susan _ .”

 

“Oh, so you’re capable of using my name now,” she replied, to which we shared a mutual giggle and again, I offered her nothing but a shrug and another “who knows” in response. I bent down to the lower cupboards and removed what I had stealthily stowed away the night before.

 

“I know it’s not champagne and roses,” I began, as I produced a large bag of dark chocolate kisses and some Diet Coke from the fridge, a tentative but welcoming smile on my face. “But I’m sure the cynic and the romantic in you can compromise on this for one night, eh?”

 

“Wait,” she held out her arms as if to stop me, inspiring my eyebrows to reach heavenward yet again for already the second time tonight. “Is this a  _ date _ ?”

 

She spoke the words in a conspiratorial whisper, as if we were two girlfriends at a slumber party afraid of being caught staying up too late. I cocked my head sideways at her. As long as I’d known her, I didn’t peg Susan for having a sense of humor, but I guess fatter pigs have flown.

 

“Why are we whispering?” I mimed her tone exactly, almost too perfectly. We both once again erupted into an uproar, again closely resembling two schoolgirls with too much caffeine in their system.

 

“Shut the fuck up and give me some chocolate,” Susan replied with a smug grin painted across her beautiful face. Wait…  _ beautiful _ ? I pressed a few of the foil-wrapped chocolates into her hand as I found myself preoccupied by this sudden epiphany.

 

_ Of course she’s beautiful.  _

 

I wasn’t immune to women’s charms or looks, but I guess after being with Luka for so long, it was easy to forget about that side of me. It was a pleasant surprise to feel the blood rush in such an unexpected way. 

 

“I feel like we’re at a Girl Scouts meeting,” I laughed the words as I passed her a Diet Coke and popped the top of my own. We both took cursory swigs of our drinks as I settled back down beside her at the table. “I mean, the company’s better, of course.”

 

“And I’m not trying to shove cookies down your throat,” She pointed out as she drew another sip from her can, to which I nodded with severe honesty.  A small, pregnant pause passed between us before she piped up. “So who was she? The girl you kept in your bed, of course.”

 

“Her name was Naomi,” I replied, a shit-eating grin plastering my face as I looked down at the Coke can in my hand. Memories began to flood back, steady but gentle. “We took an Anatomy class together my sophomore year.”

 

“...And?” she pushed, clearly more interested in it than I thought she’d be. A small, shy smile came over my face. I had never really gossiped with another woman, let alone one I was attracted to.

 

“Let’s just say that we both mastered the human body,” I replied, blushing slightly at the thought of her and I together in bed. “She’d never been with a woman, but she was so damn  _ fiery _ .”

 

“It was good, though?” Susan inquired, smiling to herself, an unreadable expression passed over her face, as if she realized she was a bit too interested in the story. “Even though she had… never… you know…”

 

“Naomi, bless her heart, was a born natural,” I said, leaning back as I popped a few Hershey squares into my mouth. We shared a smile and I drained the remainder of my Coke. “She made me do things I didn’t even know were possible.”

 

Susan sat there with her mouth agape. 

 

“Susan, the nunnery called, and they want you back,” I said, throwing a piece of chocolate at her as we laughed. “You haven’t kissed a woman since college?”

 

“Um, no… not really,” I could see her clamming up again. It couldn’t be healthy to be that stuffy about your sexuality.

 

“Would you like to?” I asked, a teasing, sultry tone to my already deep voice. I arched an eyebrow at her, meant as a challenge, and perhaps a serious one at that. 

 

“Umm… maybe, I guess,” she stuttered as I drew my chair closer to hers, our thighs brushing each other through denim. She looked down shyly, then suddenly back up into my eyes. “I think I’d like to try.”

 

My eyes fixated on her lips, which she instinctively bit down on in response. I gave her a smile and moved a bit closer, our hair mingling in a blond-brown mesh. I could hear her inhale sharply, see her hands tremble slightly and feel the nervous energy radiating off her in waves. I could smell the slight sweetness of her perfume. It was intoxicating.

 

“Well,” I replied slowly, rolling the words out in slow motion as I tilted my head in at an angle and placed my left hand behind her ear and framed her jaw with the rest. Our eyes met, hers doing a nervous, twitchy dance of excitement, mine attempting to drown in her depths. “What are you waiting for?”


	5. Uncharted Territory

Susan

 

Yeah,  _ Susie _ , what are you waiting for? 

 

I was certain that if I had an EKG right now that it would be fatally tachycardic. My heart was thundering in my chest and my ears were ringing. I could  _ feel _ how high my blood pressure was as it pounded through my veins.

 

Oh for fuck’s sake, Lewis. Abby wants you to kiss her and you're playing doctor in your head? Get it together before you stroke out.

 

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Abby said, again in that low tone that drove me crazy inside and set my nerve afire in the best way possible. 

 

I took in a slow, deep breath before I plunged forward and kissed her. I had to restrain myself from moaning out loud when our lips touched, because it was that intense. I immediately wanted more of her, and grabbed onto her shoulders as I deepened the kiss. 

 

Her hands found their way to my hair, weaving wild patterns through it to brace herself as my tongue darted forward to taste even more of her.

 

This was nothing like kissing  _ Becky _ .

A moan escaped Abby’s lips and I couldn't help but feel a big sense of accomplishment. She was moaning because of  _ my _ kisses. This knowledge was unexpected and liberating.

 

“Abby…,” I murmured, as we parted to get some air. “You...I...wow.” Abby nodded in agreement with my summary, her pupils wide with arousal. 

 

“You can say that again,” she said softly, a smile playing over her features.

 

“So, what happens now?” I whispered, expecting some snarky reply from Abby about consulting  _ Lesbian 101 _ .

 

“Well, not to sound like a smartass,” she replied, gracing me with a “I know, but go with it” kind of smile. “What do you  _ want  _ to happen now?”

 

Her husky voice is doing things to me that I'm not sure I know the proper terminology for.

 

“I want to have--” I began, my voice embarrassingly squeaky. I cleared my throat and regained some of my composure. “I want to make love with you.” 

 

Abby’s calculating gaze bores into me for a solid minute as she processes this, and the silence from her is palpable. After an unbearable amount of time, she lets out a tortured sigh. 

 

_ Well, you've done it now. Good work, Susan, you've freaked her out. _

 

“Are you sure you want this? I don't want to be some sort of experiment for you.”

 

Her words are like a slap to the face. I would never hold her in such low regard.

 

“I want you to be my first. I care about you...I trust you. You aren't some casual fuck I would just discard.”

 

“I never thought that,” Abby replied, a gentle smile spreading over her face, “I just want to make sure you've thought everything through.”

 

I blinked dumbly at her. 

 

“I honestly don't have a clue what I'm doing. This is uncharted territory and I don’t have a compass. The only thing I know for certain is that I want this, and I want it with you.”

 

I stood up from my chair and held out a hand to help her up from her chair. As she stood, I kissed the knuckles of her hand that was grasped in mine before I led her to my bedroom.


	6. A Midnight Ocean

Abby

 

_ Shit,  _ the thought echoed dully in the back of my mind as we dance effortlessly towards Susan’s bedroom, her hands coil around mine, nose-to-nose, lips brushing in the softest, most innocent way.  _ I guess this is it. Good luck, Lockhart. _

 

How long did it take for our bodies to find the bed? Seconds, minutes, hours, days? Time passes differently when you’re mentally and physically wrapped around someone like a ton of vines. After an impossible passage of time, she gently but firmly pushes my back into the cool comfort of her queen sized mattress. I raise up on my elbows, my hands tangling naturally through her sun-kissed locks, ready to flip her over and take charge, but she gently batts my efforts away with a smile.

 

“Let me do this,” she whispers softly before burying her mouth in the hollow of my throat. A surprised, helpless, tiny moan escapes my lips as I instinctively grip the back of her head and take a handful of bedsheet needfully in the other. 

 

I feel the glorious pressure and pain of her teeth, the wet and warm heat of her tongue as it pirouettes across the sensitive, delicate skin of my neck. I unconsciously release another moan, deep in my throat. 

 

_ Fucking hell,  _ that little voice within drawls, sounding more like a demon dancing through my mind.

 

I sense a fierce pit of tanging desire, need and passion burning low and hot in my nether regions, an intensity that even Luka isn’t capable of conjuring on some nights. His face floats into view momentarily, but I will it away.

 

She curls her mouth around the tip of my ear, her tongue, mouth and lips swaying and preying on the flesh in a crazy kind of three-way. I inhale sharply at the sensation and then moan simultaneously, wrapping a handful of her hair around my hand and pulling gently as some unnamed feeling grows stronger inside of me.

 

Her tongue shimmies and shakes from the top to bottom of my ear, her tongue plunging and pillaging in a reckless manner that wrecks me inside. I find myself arching against her as she kisses staccato across my jaw like stones skipping across a lake. She halts at the corner of my mouth, brushing her lips against it softly, but never adding enough pressure.

 

I whine in annoyance like an errant child who has been refused their favorite toy at playtime, and though I can’t clearly see her face, I can feel Susan grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She laughs, low and throaty, relishing the power she holds over me. 

 

I tilt my head towards her in an attempt to capture her lips and turn the tables, and once again, she diverts my efforts with a finger to my lips. I hear a soft  _ Mmm, mmm, mmm  _ before she began to painstakingly graze her teeth along my lower lip. I whimper impatiently, but she ignores my pleas.

 

Her agile tongue dances over my bottom lip, lifts to tease my upper lip and then retreats entirely, leaving me in a pool of my own desire, a trembling, quaking, gelatinous pile of need and anxiety. She gently places her hands over my eyes, ignoring my small grunts of objection, and then the silence is all there is between us.

 

I gasp, my breaths low and thready, my chest heaving involuntarily, my body pitching achingly against hers, now lost in a midnight sea. If I didn’t feel the pressure of her pelvis on mine, the slight weight of her breasts against me, and feel her silky hair, smelling of strawberries, I’d have no proof that she was even real.

 

“Susan…” I trail off, no other words coming to aid me in my growing confusion. I feel my body starting to ache everywhere, good and bad. I’m not sure what that means, but I get a sense that I am existing on borrowed time now. I just don’t know how to communicate it to her. “I--”

 

“Shut up, Abby,” she whispered low in my ear before claiming my mouth with hers, applying a pressure and heat that made the last kiss we shared seem like a ride at Disneyland. 

 

She takes little time in prying my lips apart, to which I would have complied fully, and dives deep and long before I join her in this tango of sorts. A strangled, little moan escapes my throat as she takes her hands from my eyes, replacing them carefully but firmly in my own. Our fingers mingle and she holds me down against the bed, our tongues speaking their own native language.

 

I close my eyes, embracing the sweet, painful ache she has started, allowing myself to drift down and down into the sensation. Again, I am submerged and saturated in a midnight ocean, but this time, I am lost without a compass with  _ her _ , and that’s all the direction I need. 

 

I vaguely feel her hand snaking its way up to my breasts, an exploratory and curious sort of expedition. She finds and seizes my nipple at the tip, turning it up and down and side-to-side in angles, rubbing it and applying just the right amount of pressure. I feel so drugged-up on the feeling that I emit an almost soundless reply.

 

All feeling is leaving my body now, replaced by the pleasant numbness of the midnight sea, which carries me away on an idle current. Even Susan’s presence slips my senses, and my mind floats away, above, beyond even my own perception. I can’t even think to react. There is only me, the darkness… and the ever-churning silent sea within.


	7. Just My Luck

Susan

 

It was as if one moment, I felt her below me, so completely conscious and in sync, and the next, she went slack like a ragdoll in my arms. Even her hands lost all pressure and will to fight or resist. At first, I thought she was playing coy, but when I heard a soft snore escape her, I knew I had lost her.

 

“Abby?” I whispered softly against her closed eyes, but the only reply I received was a drawn-out snore. I placed my hand against her chest, feeling her breaths deepening in her chest. She’s dead to the world, and no good to me now. I sighed in frustration, but had to laugh.

 

 _This is just my luck,_ I thought to myself as I watched her slowly fall asleep in front of me. I disengaged from her body and stiffy laid next to her, sore with the pain and frustration. I pulled the blanket over us and curled myself around her, snuggling my head against her shoulder. She let out an obnoxious snore that inspired a giggle.

 

“That's fucking sexy, Abby,” I murmured into her ear, knowing full well that she couldn’t hear me, wouldn’t hear me, and therefore, I was free to live another day.  

 

I laid there for a while, listening to the sound of her breathing. It had a calming effect on me. The blinding arousal that had built up had waned now, and I could enjoy being intimate with her without the distraction of ravenous need. A part of me was glad we didn't go further. It gave me an opportunity to reflect on and absorb exactly what I was getting myself into.

 

My native tongue is medicine and all things practical. We spoke that same language, but when we were alone together, Abby herself was something my practical mind, as well as my native tongue, failed to translate.

 

When she asked if I had thought it through, I was completely honest. I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I was ambushed by desire and didn't think about what happened _after_. There's no way you can possibly look at someone the same once you've been intimate.

 

And I'm not talking about the _naked_ that denotes a lack of clothing. I'm talking about when they bare their souls to you. That’s when things automatically change, whether you want them to, whether you’re even consciously aware of it at all.

 

Abby is a tough woman to know, but I've started chipping away at her defenses. Underneath is a woman who has endured a lot of hardship and struggle. She's a survivor, but at her core is, unbelievably loving and thoughtful. I'm not sure what I've done to get in her good graces besides offer her asylum for a while, but I won’t question it either.

 

_You're fucking lucky, Lewis._

 

So, Abby, tell me: What are we doing here? Are we both crazy? Will my inexperience with women frustrate you? Will I be able to make you cum? What about the morning after? What about work? Will we have to hide our involvement from everyone if we want to sustain this?

 

I bit my lip, realizing instantly that I was willfully leading myself into a full-blown panic attack. I surmised that she wouldn’t want that for me, even if we had done the deed and were already sharing a reverie about the whole experience.  

 

“No, I'm not scared,” I heard her mumble in her sleep. The timing of Abby’s sleep talking was near serendipitous with the questions I was pondering and it freaked me out. She let out a contented huff and settled when I pulled her closer, seeking comfort in her proximity.

 

“But _I_ _am_ scared, Abby,” I murmur into her hair. I was terrified of how quickly this had happened and the possible ramifications. I was scared of being an inadequate lover. I was scared of hurting her and being hurt. I was scared of how addicted I was already becoming to her and I hadn't even made love to her yet.

 

You want to _make love_ to her, do you? Not just fuck her?

 

 _Yes_.

 

I'm in the deep end now, sinking under the weight of her, drowning in the unknown.


	8. Beautiful Dragon

Abby

 

I awoke abruptly, my eyes flying around the room in a frenzied dance, and then settled on the alarm clock with its glowing red numbers. It was barely past three o’clock in the morning, but I felt like I had been out for much longer. I assessed my surroundings, as I oftentimes do in my own paranoid state, and then relaxed back against the bed.

 

I was in Susan’s bed again, but this time, I hadn’t been sleepwalking. She had marched me in here, both us so willing to consume one another. The memories of her kiss, her hands, the pressure of her body on mine came back, playing for just a second or so before I came fully awake.

 

I felt her arms, wrapped around me masterfully like snakes coiled around their prey, her pelvis gently grazing my ass and heard her soft, inaudible murmurs against my hair. I could hear her draw in breath and occasionally emit a snore in between. A smile slowly spread across my face as I enjoyed her proximity, but I also felt a stab of guilt run through my heart at the same time. 

 

_ You fell asleep before the show even started, Lockhart. That’s a record, even for you. _

 

I wanted to stay like that forever, Susan wrapped around me in a way that immobilized me and yet held me safely from any kind of harm. However, my bladder had completely different intentions. It was only a minor ache when I had awakened a few minutes before, but it had steadily grown to a siren scream, one that I could no longer avoid. I huffed unto myself, not looking forward to the maneuvering I’d have to achieve in order to not wake the slumbering dragon at my back.

 

_ Oh, but what a beautiful dragon you are, dear. _

 

I wrestled, negotiated and lightly fought against Susan’s hold, feeling a little like Tom Cruise in  _ Mission Impossible _ . It could have taken seconds, minutes, maybe even hours, but the passage of time was beyond me as I finally pulled myself up off the bed and found my feet. I marched triumphantly towards the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack.

 

As I voided my bladder, I reflected on the night, or possibly the mere handful of hours prior to me passing out. I could rationalize all I wanted that I was still weak from the wounds that assmonkey had unleashed on me, or exhausted from another long shift in the ER, but the guilt over falling asleep on Susan would not leave my mind. It weighed me like a curse.

 

I finished in the bathroom and reentered the bedroom, silver light from the windowsill pooling in through the shades almost like sunlight in the morning, finding Susan’s splayed blond locks and highlighting them as well as her face. I swear, she looked like an angel when she slept. She was so calm, so at peace. I stood in the tiny doorway, watching her sleep for a few moments before I realized I had zoned out.

 

“I hope you didn’t think this was your fault,” I whispered softly, so inaudibly that I didn’t even bother to wonder if she could hear me. The only reply Susan threw my way was a series of deep, devoted snores, which brought a smile to my face. 

 

I padded slowly towards the bed, almost absorbed in the sound, or lack thereof, of her slumber. I slowly pressed myself in bedside her, my hands moving instinctively to her waist, my head mingling effortlessly into tangles with her sun-kissed locks. Once again, I breathed her in, strawberries and a light hint of sweat. In the back of my mind, I could hear myself challenging her.

 

_ What are you waiting for? _

 

“It was my fault,” I sighed, my mouth almost against her ear. She stirred, I hoped involuntarily, in her sleep, murmuring something deep in her thick, windowless sleep. She reflexively arched against me, to my surprise and delight, and then began snoring loudly and unapologetically.

 

I wasn’t ready to face her, not yet. I knew the moment for The Talk was drawing nearer, even if we hadn’t finished what we started, but I needed at least a few more hours of sleep before I would be able to find the words that she needed, that she deserved.


	9. Multiple Traumas

Susan

 

Sometimes dreams are much sweeter than reality. At least in dreams, you can be whoever you want and do whatever you please without the real-world consequences that everyday life tends to burden you with. I know it’s a part of growing up, of carving yourself out of stone, but I have never truly enjoyed it. Not until now.

 

I had already awoken around six o'clock in the morning, freshly showered, and was now hesitantly drinking my morning coffee as I remembered last night’s events. What had begun so innocently had spiraled quickly into something of deep desire and overwhelming physical need. I’d never felt something like that with a man before. Never imagined it was possible with a woman.

 

From the kitchen, I could hear Abby snoring away without a care. I took another sip of my coffee, remembering the way she had turned limp in my arms before we got a chance to make love. I wondered if she was up for this, physically and mentally, as I at least felt I was. The doubt that was ballooning and swirling like butterflies in my gut wouldn’t leave me alone. I hadn’t even bothered to eat breakfast. It would’ve been a futile effort.

 

My mind wandered naturally back to our shared moment at the kitchen table, the conversation we had shared, the way it had escalated into something I couldn’t have foreseen, even in my most secret fantasy. My daydream crumbled away bitterly as the counter began to throb and vibrate. Both our pagers, thrown carelessly at the other end, were now alive with activity. 

 

I sighed deeply before moving to the end of counter to retrieve them. 

 

“Oh, shit,” I breathed, looking towards the bedroom momentarily as I dumped my coffee out. I took my robe off as I went to the bedroom door, calling her name over and over until she finally stirred, confused and disheveled.

 

“Wha… What’s going on?” she managed feebly, her eyes already filling with alarm, but recognition as I held up her pager in my spare hand. “What is it?”

 

“Bombing at the airport,” I said as I threw her pager towards the bed. She caught it without any motion, nodding numbly. “Multiple…  _ multiple  _ traumas, shrapnel, you name it. It’s coming.”

 

Abby’s eyes lit up momentarily, possibly with a joke, then she stuffed herself back into her pants and threw her shirt on, quickly wiping the quip from her mind. Less than five minutes later, we were both shutting off the lights and locking the door as we headed out. 

 

We moved mechanically, no words exchanged between us about the night before, nor were we even permitted to let it pass through our minds. We were too busy collecting our mental faculties and preparing for the eventual onslaught of patients.

 

The apartment went to pitch black as I quickly slammed the door behind me and locked up.


	10. Busted

Abby

 

I stripped my last pair of scrubs off my body and threw them into the haz-waste bin outside the trauma suite doors. With my gloves discarded seconds before, I carefully wiped a thin sheen of sweat from my brow, assessing my surroundings as I sighed in slight exhaustion, slight relief. For now, the aftermath of the airport bombing had been triaged and the worst had been routed through the ER and onto Surgery and X-Ray. 

 

Having performed my primary function, I sat down and let the weight pass from my body, easing out of my muscles and shoulders. My mind was a tangle of thoughts, mostly patient-related. As I looked up again, I caught sight of Susan as she discarded her scrubs as well. Our eyes met, but we made no move and spoke no words. 

 

I stood up and walked in her directions, our eyes never disengaging or leaving each other. I made my way until I stood before her, fidgeting with my fingers for no reason at all. Moments like these, my nerves seized complete control of me. 

 

_ Not too cool now, eh, Lockhart?  _ I swore I heard her laughing at me from her eyes, but I brushed it aside.

 

“We should probably talk,” I said, looking up from my hands and into her eyes, now feeling like the one who was perhaps scared, perhaps terrified even. “Do you have a minute?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” she smiled, but it was tense, almost nervous. 

 

She waved me into the break room, which for this time of morning, was mercilessly empty and dim. We stood in front of the lockers for a moment, just looking at each other again, no words between us.

 

“Last night was amazing,” I said, a blush spreading through my face, warm and crimson. I could feel the blood high in my cheeks. “I just wanted you to know that.”

 

“So amazing that you fell asleep?” she crossed her arms and broke into a grin, gazing back at me, looking thankfully less tense. I thought I had ascended to the deepest shade of red possible, but I was horribly wrong. I felt my cheeks burn with a newfound intensity.

 

“I am  _ so  _ sorry about that,” I was completely mortified again, as if this was middle school and I had said the worst possible thing to the hunkiest boy.  _ Boy. _ The thought echoed dully in my mind before I brushed it away in annoyance. “I thought about it all morning.”

 

“I believe you,” she replied softly, lost in some kind of thought before we met eyes again. “But are you sorry it happened?”

 

“Huh?” It was the silliest question I had ever expected, and I wasn’t ready for it. “Of course not.”

 

“Even if we had gone through with it,” she angled, her eyes like ice and her hands out in front of her in a gesture of grabbing a ball in midair. “What happens now, or tomorrow? Or the day after that?”

 

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly, holding my hands out in front of me. Our eyes met, hers filled with partial tears, mine wanting to reciprocate the feeling. “I don’t regret it, though. I wouldn’t regret anything else, either.”

 

There was a long, pregnant silence between us.

 

"I said I wasn't going to do this," Susan sighed heavily as she stared at the ground, possibly frustrated, possibly confused. Either way, it didn't feel good.

 

"Do what?" I asked. Talking to Susan about anything but medicine or trauma was tantamount to pulling teeth. You almost had to force the words out of her.

 

"React," she finally said, meeting my eyes for a moment. She looked scared, possibly even terrified. "Like every insecure woman in history."

 

"Don't say that," I said, a begging tone creeping into my voice. She looked up abruptly, an expression of anger or frustration on her face. Really? her eyes seemed to ask. 

 

"I don't think you're insecure," I assured her, lightly touching her wrist with my hand tentatively. She looked up at me, resembling a woman drowning in an ocean of feelings. "It just means you care."

 

“What about Luka?” she asked, fear creeping understandably into her tone. She looked mistrustful, and I couldn’t blame her. She had nothing holding her back, but I had something very real, very physical in my path. She was most likely questioning her place.

 

“I love Luka, but you’ve had me in a way that he never can,” I found the words much like a child following breadcrumbs through a forest. One at a time, with pleasure and excitement, but also with apprehension and fear. Anxiety exploded in my veins as I took her hand in mine. “I’m not going to make you some lame promise, but we’ll figure this out. Together.”

 

“So you--” Recognition dawned on her face like a sunset slowly rising over a midnight landscape. Slowly, her eyes lit up like Christmas lights and her face glowed with some intangible emotion. “You want me?”

 

She squeezed my hand as if in the deep, throbbing throes of labor. I winced a bit and nodded, squeezing her hand back with as much energy as I could exert.

 

“I didn’t know it at first,” I admitted softly, looking down at our entwined hands. “But ever since I sleepwalked into your bedroom that night, you’ve been sneaking your way into my heart, I think.”

 

“I’m quite the ninja,” she replied, a satisfied smile coming across her face.

 

It might’ve been her beauty, it might’ve been the moment, or it might’ve been a completely random impulse, but my heart tightened at that smile, coiled around it and sunk down into the emotion and dropped its anchor without hesitation. In a life that had left me feeling without port or a destination, she felt like the most natural home to me. 

 

“And quite the catch,” I whispered softly before stepping forward and planting a firm, light kiss on her lips. I could smell the alcohol and antiseptic rising off her like a perfume, I could feel the softness of her pressed into my knees, chest and forehead. She sighed and moaned softly into her throat, tangling her hand through my hair as our tongues met briefly, tangoing as they had before, but with a renewed intensity.

 

We embraced each other more seriously, her hands falling around my waist, my arms reaching around her neck to pull her even closer. As we tangled and weaved around each other, I felt the anxiety and worry from the morning melting away like spilled ice cream on a sidewalk amidst a Florida summer. If it had ever existed at all, no traces of it remained.

 

We had become so distracted by the moment, so unconsciously and yet intentionally lost in each other, that we hardly heard the door swing open in front of us. Suddenly, my nerves went haywire all at once and I turned my head from hers, breaking the kiss in a quick motion of surprise and astonishment. 

  
Before us stood Kerry Weaver, a look of surprise and admonishment in her eyes. I immediately drew back from Susan, not in a guilty manner, but in a way that a child draws back from the cookie jar once they’ve been discovered with their hand stuck in it. Susan and I looked at each other in disbelief, confusion, and then looked back at Kerry.


	11. Weavered

Susan

 

Oh my god.

 

_ Oh my god.  _

 

I was suddenly frozen, not risking another look at Abby under Kerry’s scrutiny. I stared at an unfixed point in the floor, becoming totally absorbed, because I couldn't stand to look the Chief in the eye. Of all the people to bust us while making out in the break room, it had to be Kerry  _ fucking  _ Weaver. The same that was recently outed in the middle of the ER by her girlfriend, a firefighter named Sandy. Memorable doesn’t begin to describe it.

 

You could cut a steak with the rising tension. Kerry's expression had turned to a frosty look of authority that most of us feared. It was a healthy, realistic kind of fear. The kind you learn to exist around and not cause for yourself.

 

“Susan? Abby?” Kerry eyed us both cautiously, questions written in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, leaning to one side on her cane. “Would you care to explain why you were careless enough to get caught in such a compromising position?”

 

Abby shifted uncomfortably beside me. I floundered, searching for a response and failed miserably in producing one. Abby spoke up, and I prayed she didn't say something that'd make it worse. 

 

_ As if it  _ **_could_ ** _ get any worse. _

 

“Doctor Weaver, we--” Abby sputtered, gesturing helplessly between us in a futile gesture. She must have realized herself for the sinking ship she was, because she huffed and sighed angrily, staring at the floor like I had. “We got carried away. We were--”

 

Kerry raised a hand to cut Abby off. We both looked at each other anxiously.

 

“I'm acutely aware of what you were  _ doing _ , Abby,” Then she turned her ire in my direction. “And you, Susan. You're an  _ attending,  _ for Christ’s sake. What the hell were you thinking? Have you lost your mind and all sense of responsibility?” 

 

Anger replaced anxiety in my stomach as she lambasted me. I crossed my arms defensively, trying to hold myself back from doing, or possibly saying, something stupid.

 

“Sorry,” I grunted, clenching my jaw shut to prevent anything else. How dare she judge me for this. How fucking dare she even  _ begin _ to judge me. I felt Abby’s hand on the small of my back and my distemper subsided a bit.

 

Kerry pinched the bridge of her nose and let out an aggrieved sigh. 

 

“Did you two not witness the magnificent disaster that was Kim Legaspi and our break up? Did you not hear about the pissing match I got into with Romano over it?” 

 

Abby and I were goggling at Kerry now as she waved her arms in wild gesticulation. I risked a glance towards Abby.  _ Pissing match _ ? Abby’s face was a blank slate, but I could tell that she was envisioning Weaver and Romano verbally sparring.

 

“Then I was forced out of the closet in front of everyone here by my own girlfriend. It was not ideal and it was not pleasant. Neither of you knew Maggie Doyle, but she was a great physician. She was a lesbian who was shamed into leaving by Romano.”

 

She seemed to deflate a bit, leaning on her cane more heavily than usual.

 

“Just...be careful and discreet,” she said, assuming a maternal tone to her usually frigid temperament. “Unless you're ready for the aftermath. I know I wasn’t.”

 

Ah, so she wasn’t about to suspend us or anything else absurd for our indiscretion. Kerry was simply in advisory mode, like some sort of lesbian fairy godmother.

 

“Well, I'm kinda glad it was you who busted us,” I offered with a small smile. Abby gave a murmur of agreement and decided to chime in.

 

“Yeah, could you imagine if it was Carter instead? Or Luka? They'd have a stroke!” I let out a chortle and Kerry rolled her eyes in amusement.

 

“Or worse, Romano. He’d probably drop dead on the spot!” I quipped, causing both Abby and Kerry to snort in laughter. Kerry sighed after a moment though, turning serious again. 

 

“Obviously, I have no objections, but others will. Be careful and use your best judgement.” 

 

With nods of understanding from me and Abby, Kerry turned to leave, a playful grin on her face. 

 

“Susan, do me a favor and call epidemiology. Let them know there's an outbreak of lesbianism down here.”

 

And just like that, Kerry was out the door, leaving me and Abby to collapse into fits of laughter at the Chief’s parting shot.


	12. She's Getting Brave

Abby

 

I stood in the middle of Susan’s kitchen, an apron tied around my waist, my hair pulled back expertly so as not to block my eyes. I held a recipe in front of my eyes, pulling it in close to read something out of my line of sight. I wasn’t much of a cook, but tonight, I wanted to be good enough. 

 

I picked up the heavy lid of the large, silver pot filled three-quarters full with hot, bubbling water. I felt as if it took an eternity to boil water. I’d rather be administering sutures to someone’s kid without any topical anesthetic than be judged for this meal, but I suppose we do some crazy things for the people we--

 

_...The people we what, Lockhart? You’re such a coward. You can’t even admit it to your own brain. _

 

I picked up the large metal spoon and removed the lid from the smaller pot, swirling and churning tomato sauce in slow motion. I stirred the pot soundlessly, finding myself absorbed in watching its slow and agonizing journey from thick, cold gelatinous goo to hot, simmering tastiness. I felt her ambush me moments before she snaked her arms around my waist.

 

“You know,” she whispered low and husky, making my heart skip a beat and my breath catch somewhere in my chest. I could feel her smile without seeing her face. “This isn’t chocolate and Diet Coke, but I guess it’ll do.”

 

We both dissolved into soft laughter for a moment before I turned to face her.

 

“You’re such an  _ asshole _ ,” I sighed, raising a spoonful of sauce in front of her, waving it invitingly. “Give me your honest opinion.”

 

Some unreadable emotion passed over Susan’s face, something I couldn’t quite classify as good or bad, and she looked down at the spoon.

 

“You’re asking my opinion?” she inquired, leaning forward to pull the spoonful into her mouth without so much as spilling it on her. She closed her eyes, as if the act of tasting it required her full and undivided attention and focus. 

 

“Yeah, of course,” I said, tilting my head a bit sideways as I regarded her for a moment. “What’s the verdict, Lewis?”

 

“It could use a little garlic salt,” she replied, a mischievous look in her eyes. She knew I wasn’t truly asking about the sauce, but her lips would tell no more secrets. “And you, you’re… just right.”

 

She moved in, sweeping the spoon from my hand and tossing it towards the counter as she pressed her lips hard and fast against mine. We danced quickly from the stove to the counter. Susan pressed me against the countertop as if she were trying to make an impression or bust of my body somehow. Her hands, the same hands that had been instruments in saving immeasurable lives, grabbed the globes of my ass without shame. 

 

_ Shit. She's getting brave. _

 

Her tongue dove guiltless and wild into my mouth, finding mine and working against it like a wave against a shore. We arched against each other, emitting our own sounds of pleasure and joy as we wrapped around each other quicker than a sports car ‘round a tree going way too fast. When we crashed, it was total ecstasy, and when we came apart, it was complete torture.

 

I hesitantly pulled back from her embrace, trying in vain to catch my breath.

 

“If we’re going to eat anytime this century,” I said, the words coming out in between tiny gasps and a grin, “We probably need to turn the stove off.”

 

“Abby Lockhart,” she breathed against my cheek, sounding genuinely astonished. “Are you being practical? Playing it safe?”

 

She broke into laughter as I stared at her, an annoyed grin on my face.

 

“You’re an  _ asshole _ ,” I replied, laughing through my grin as I moved to the stove and turned all the dials to OFF. “You don’t want me to burn dinner, do you?”

 

I turned around to face her again, caught off-guard by the fact that she had silently snuck up behind me. A strange look had stolen over her eyes, another look that I could neither read nor interpret in any direction. She looked so serious, so determined, and yet somehow even more beautiful than before.

 

She bridged the gap and pulled me close to her again, her eyes gliding from my lips to my eyes in an unsteady, uncertain sort of dance on a loop, that strange shade of determination pigmenting her eyes and punctuating her beauty. I wasn’t sure what to say, unable to reconcile her serious expression and her affectionate body language.

 

“Do you want to eat?” I asked, feeling more like a child than a grown woman in the arms of the person I cared for most, but I couldn’t avoid it or ignore it either. 

 

“Leave it,” she replied, her hand finding mine. Without a word, without so much as a kiss between us, she lead me back towards the bedroom. I remembered this journey. I remembered us navigating our way, fumbling and blushing as we careened onto the bed. This was something completely foreign and different in nature.


	13. Long and Agonizing Pilgrimage

Susan

 

It seemed to me that we fell from Heaven into the soft comfort of my bed, but with how quickly it all transpired, I could definitely be embellishing that part of the story. My mouth engulfed hers, in an effort to quell any thought she may be wanting to verbalize, in an effort to inevitably push her in the direction that my mind and body were furiously racing towards.

 

Our tongues rolled against each other, part of a vicious, coiling tide that had wrapped us both tightly in its clutches and vowed to never let go. As Abby threaded both hands through my hair, I used one hand to frame her jaw and the other to slyly slip unapologetically up her blouse towards her breasts. I was pleasantly surprised when I found she wasn’t wearing a bra.

 

Her entire body tensed, arched, and her head pitched backwards as I seized her soft, warm nipples between my finger. Lightly rubbing the tip at first until it stood at attention, full and aching in all its glory, I took it between my thumb and index finger, twisting and applying just the right balance of pressure.

 

Abby’s hands fell to the sheets at her side, balling lightly as she moaned loud and openly from her throat. Her mouth, still pressed insistently against mine, widened and then went lax. Her whole body was racked with an involuntary response to my actions. I felt like a puppetmaster with all my power and influence. I was instantly aroused and intoxicated by it.

 

I peeled her shirt off her in one fell swoop, my hands gliding effortlessly and adventurously from her breasts down to the V of her waist and beyond. We locked eyes for a moment. Abby, usually so cool and controlling, looked up at me helplessly, her eyes a mixed sea of aching passion and overwhelming necessity. 

 

_ There’s no going back now, Lewis. _

 

I bent over her like a worshipper devoting themselves to prayer, thinking of her body as my personal shrine that I must honor, uphold and pay tribute to. I leaned down, taking one nipple in my mouth, my tongue playing an endless game of hockey, complete with equal measure of tossing, turning, throwing and the perfect amount of pressure from my teeth.

 

“Fuck,” she gasped, sounding almost frustrated and on the edge of some kind of change. The bedsheets were now innately coiled around her tiny hands, her body pitching and shifting underneath me, restless and yearning to its own unconscious symphony of response.

 

I moved from one to the other, callously and cruelly as I enveloped the other in the exact same nature. Afterwards, my mouth trailed down her left side, first just the subtle, agonizing grazing sensation of my lips, then punctuated by warm, fleeting hints of my tongue in between. I trailed down to the pocket between her hip and groin, pausing to look up at her momentarily.

 

Her eyes were a dark, cloaked vessel churning lifelessly against a typhoon current of physical necessity, giving herself unquestioningly to the void of eventual arrival. She bit her lip so hard, she could’ve drawn blood, then whimpered some wordless plea that I took as a personal invitation.

 

My hands hooked between two of the belt loops of her pants. Delicately, I unbuttoned the top button at the top of her pants and proceeded to pull the zipper down. Then I put my hands at the end of her pants and gently pulled them off. I discarded them without thought on the floor. Then I took a moment to drink her in with my eyes. 

 

Our eyes met for a moment, exchanging words in our own way, but said nothing aloud. I took both of her feet into each of my hands. My hands hooked around her ankles and began to slowly pull her until her lower half was dangling almost off the bed. 

 

I took my place on my knees at her feet, using both hands to pry her legs slowly apart. I could feel the slight tension in her joints, the way her muscles instinctively tightened at that moment, as if to permit no further passage. 

 

_ We’ll see about that,  _ a little voice laughed in my head. Nothing was a challenge I couldn't rise to tonight. She had no idea what was about to happen. 

 

I took my sweet time, brushing my hands up and around her subtle, fragile sense of control. She wore the thinnest pair of panties that night, and all the while, they were whispering conspiratorially for me to deliver them to freedom

 

In one sleight of the hand, she was gloriously nude in front of me. 

 

My mouth and my tongue made the long and agonizing pilgrimage from her calves, slowly up her inner thighs until she struggled to sit still. My tongue glided around the edges of the apex, savoring the gasps and sighs that would crescendo with enough time and patience.


	14. Oxytocin

Abby

 

Somebody told me once you get everything you’ve ever wanted, you will undoubtedly change your mind. Knowing that a wish cannot be fulfilled is misery, but knowing that all your dreams have come true in the most unexpected way is another entirely.

 

The thing is, I don’t want to change my mind. I just want things to stay this way forever. Is that so much to ask of the universe?

 

Susan laid limp and beautiful in my arms, already drumming out her own soft rhythm of sleep. We had both explored and consumed each other so completely, it was no surprise that she couldn’t stay awake. It was amazing to see her in the moment, caught up in a case in the ER, but that beauty paled in comparison to the fire of her sexual spirit. I gently rocked against her, trying in vain to wake my own version of Sleeping Beauty.

 

Impressive, Lockhart. You’ve killed her on the first time out.

 

I remembered how her hands had slid so confidently and determinedly over my skin, as if she was working through a procedure she had committed to memory as well as heart. Her movements were fluid and effortless, lacking the tension and hesitation she had exhibited before. 

 

As I came, pleasure struck me in such a sudden and intense kind of way. It surprised both of us. Susan, awed or shocked in the moment, as I called her name, looked quite pleased with my reaction. 

 

I had never been rendered so helplessly paralyzed by an orgasm before. Hadn't even been aware that such a thing was even possible. She held me close until the oxytocin coursing through my veins subsided. I'm still shocked I didn't pass out then and there.

 

I watch Susan’s chest rise and fall, her slow and steady breathing lulling my own eyes closed, I couldn't help but wonder if I was dreaming. She erases all doubt that I'm awake as she stirs with a sharp inhale, blinking away the haze and giving me a lazy smile once her eyes focus. 

 

"Abby?" she murmured my name hoarsely, barely above a whisper at all. She turns and bit to look into my eyes. Mine are soft and filled with laughter, hers are perplexed and curious. I can practically see the gears turning in her head. "Did I...black out?"

 

A smug grin makes its way across my features. I look into her eyes once again and nod, unable to contain the smile plastered on my face.

 

"They say tequila is great for sleep," I replied, placing my lips lightly on hers in a small, affectionate kiss. She leans in and smiles, her eyes searching mine. It's a beautiful feeling. "I think great sex is a better option by far."

 

"It was great?" Susan's face lights up quicker and with more intensity than any kid on Christmas Day. She squeezes my arm with vicious excitement, and I can almost feel a bruise forming. "Really?" 

 

“Don’t underestimate your own abilities,” I replied, running a hand slowly through her hair. She smiled up at me. “I think you’ve got more potential than Naomi.”

 

“Now you’re just bullshitting me,” she snorted with laughter, playfully ribbing me with her elbow. 

 

“No, I mean it,” I laughed, but also leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips. Our eyes met and I gave her my best mental telepathy attempt. Her eyes widened, surprise and satisfaction swimming in a sea of their own. “You were… great.”

 

“And you weren’t too bad yourself,” she replied, a pleased and happy smile flashing across her face. She seemed to be recalling it fondly as we spoke. The light in her eyes was unmistakable. “Good enough to lull me into the easiest sleep of my life.”

 

“Well, with the way you snore,” I said, leaning down to rub noses with her momentarily. “That prize could go to anybody.”

 

She yawned loud and long, her cheeks blooming with embarrassment. She giggled at herself for a moment then looked back up at me.

  
“You’re such an  _ asshole _ .”


	15. Miserable Little Imp

Abby

 

I had been running circles around the ER, triage and far beyond for several hours. It was a few days after Susan and I shared each other that night in her bedroom, but we were still secretly reveling in the afterglow of the moment. We exchanged secret looks, small smiles and distant waves, feeling like spies in some James Bond flick. 

 

Ultimately, I knew we couldn’t keep this secret from the rest of the world, but it felt kind of good to have something of my own that no one could question or shoot down.

 

I stood behind the main desk in triage, flipping through a multitude of charts, attempting in a futile effort to bring all my patients up to date. Carter and I were busy discussing his mother’s last gala or ball or whatever it was the night before. In the midsts of our conversation, Luka walked up towards the desk, his eyes fixed on me.  Carter and I dropped the conversation immediately.

 

“Abby, can we talk?” he asked, his eyes all serious and fiery on the surface. 

 

Carter took one look at him and spit out some lame excuse to vacate the premises. Suddenly the only place he wanted to be was the breakroom.  Now Luka and I were alone together at the front desk, standing eye-to-eye. My gaze went from my charts, to Luka, back to my charts, and round and round for a moment. Then I sighed.

 

“What is it, Luka?” I asked, pulling my hair back into high bun to keep it out of my face as I was writing and awkwardly navigating a conversation with my sometimes boyfriend, sometimes co-worker. To be completely honest, I had no idea where our boundaries were these days. 

 

“How are you doing lately?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned for my wellbeing, but I tried my best to be unphased by it. We had history, and that’s all it was. History. I looked back up at him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at Susan’s these days.”

 

“Yeah, I have,” I admitted, deciding then and there that I wasn’t going to spill the beans on Susan and I to a man I had had a very complicated, emotionally confusing relationship with. 

 

“When are you coming back to my place?” he said it simply enough, but it felt like there were a hundred strings tied to whatever way I decided to answer.

 

“I’m not,” I replied as easily as he had, looking back to my charts to continue my notations and changes. He stood there on the other side of the desk from me, staring at me without saying anything.

 

“What is this, Abby?” he almost whispered it, a menacing, angry tone to his voice. “Did something happen with us? Talk to me.”

 

“Luka, I’m thankful for what you’ve done for me,” I said, looking back up at him, eye-to-eye, then sighed. “But I’m never gonna be the white picket fence for you. I’m not the sit still, look pretty Stepford wife that takes care of the kids at home. That’s not who I am.”

 

“What else can I do for you?” he asked, his eyes pleading. “What can I do to make this better?”

 

“You can let go of me,” I replied, touching his hand with mine. “You always knew we wanted different things. Now it’s time to accept reality and move on.”

 

"Move on, just like that? Dammit, Abby,” he dispensed a punch into the desktop. “How can you say that? How can you just go on to the next--" 

 

Luka ground to a halt with realization. By now, Carter had left the break room and stood in the halls with other nurses and stray patients standing around watching us intently.

 

"You're seeing someone else?" he practically hissed it at me. This conversation had gone from zero to sixty in only a few minutes. I definitely wasn’t ready for  _ that  _ kind of conversation with Luka. Someday soon, but not this moment, not under these circumstances.

 

“Luka, what I do is my business, not yours,” I tried to level with him, but I felt like all he wanted to do was find another reason to scream at me. “I don’t know what else to say to you. Please don’t hold onto something that’s letting you go. It doesn’t end well.”

 

“To hell with that! Who is he? Tell me, Abby!” Luka was half monster, half man possessed by some claim he never had over me. “I’ll knock his teeth out if he hurts you.”

 

“Luka, you’re making yourself look stupid,” I said, hoping in vain that it might bring his rage or his anger down to some kind of normal level. In hindsight, I don’t think calling a man stupid does much for anger management. “Besides, you shouldn’t beat up on a woman. It wouldn’t suit the kind of man you pretend to be.”

 

Luka’s face entered into some vicious sort of cycle, from anger, then confusion, to outrage in fractions of seconds as he finally put all the pieces together.

 

“Sh--She?” was all he could manage.

 

“Did I stutter, Dr. Kovac?”

 

Out of the growing crowd before us surfaced Susan, a siren goddess with her blond hair and gorgeous eyes. She glides between us and forces us back several steps each.

 

“Come on guys,” she admonished, playing Kerry’s maternal role for a moment anyway. “You know this isn’t the place for this.”

 

I looked at the churning crowd, instantly feeling like an actor on stage in front of an audience. The only thing we lacked was popcorn. This couldn’t possibly end well.

 

“Shit. I wasn’t going to do this,” I muttered into my hand, looking back out at all the onlookers still filling up the surrounding area. “Not this way. No.”

 

“Attention doctors, nurses, aids, patients, homeless and otherwise,” I said quite loudly, feeling like someone atop their soapbox, making an epic speech of some kind. “I just want to say that I am in love… with a woman.”

 

I could see Romano wrestling through the crowd with his cane, trying in vain to move through the crowd towards the action. I couldn’t believe he would even grace this moment with his presence. Once a miserable little imp, always a miserable little imp. 

 

Now as I looked around, I could see that my words still held most of them captive, as if they were waiting for the other shoe to fall. Susan and I stood there a long, timeless moment staring at each other. I placed my hand against her cheek, leaned forward gently kissed her on the lips, then turned back to the crowd.

 

“I’m in love with Susan Lewis,” I announced, the biggest grin of my life spreading across my face. “And I’m pretty sure… that she loves me, too.”


	16. Short, Obnoxious Little Imps

Kerry

 

From a few feet away, I could hear Romano bickering and whining like the eternal child he was. I had known kindergarteners that could keep their cool in the face of something like this… and he was a grown man. A _ grown man _ . I rolled my eyes and, although completely disgusted by his presence, I hobbled my way across the crowd until we stood side by side, watching the spectacle that was Susan Lewis and Abby Lockhart kissing.

 

Romano groaned loudly beside me, throwing a sneer at me as our eyes met.

 

“Are you responsible for this disaster?” he demanded, sounding more like a child that wanted their favorite toy back. “What are you going to do to clean this up for me, Weaver?”

 

“No, this is not my doing, I assure you,” I laughed at the nerve he had, the way he assumed any lesbians were instantly connected to each other like some weird cult. It was idiots like him that made it terrifying to come out in the workplace at all.

 

Romano turned back towards the front desk, pushing himself through the last remaining threads of bodies blocking his view, or more likely, their view of his tiny form. Susan and Abby seemed to be having a private conversation, then Abby looked up at Romano as he emerged through the crowd.

 

“Are you proud of yourselves?” He asked, clapping his hands together with a blank look on his face and an angry stillness in his black eyes. “I could buy something much better online for a few dollars. You’re not amusing anybody.”

 

Abby stalked towards Romano, a look of murder in her eyes, but Susan grabbed ahold of her arm before she could make the trip complete. 

 

“Abby---” Susan stammered, pleading with her eyes and they stood looking at each other in the heat of the moment. Abby sighed, throwing her hands up in exhaustion and irritation. She turned back around towards Romano.

 

“No, Susan,” Abby replied, staring Romano down. “Don’t be afraid of a little honesty. Just because you intimidated Kerry Weaver and other female physicians doesn’t mean you’re gonna do the same to us.”

 

“Is that right?” he all but laughed in rebuttal.

 

“That’s right,” I replied, smiling to myself. “Because we’re not afraid of you anymore, Little Man. You can’t control us.”

 

“Excuse me?” he sputtered, rotating a full one-hundred and eighty degrees to stare me down as if I had just kicked his puppy. However, let’s be honest… any dog of his would run away from home the second it was adopted. I wondered if there was a human bone still left in his body, one that a helicopter blade hadn’t already cut through like a knife through butter. “What did you say to me?”

 

“You can stop dispensing with the fire-and-brimstone rhetoric,  _ Robert _ ,” I virtually spat his name from my mouth, disgustedly, as if I had swallowed poison. “We’re not going to cower in fear from you anymore. Your reign is over, Napoleon.”

 

Romano’s eyes widened, his mouth quivered in disbelief. I could see the gears of his small mind revolving in slow motion.

 

“Wha--” For someone so fond of making cruel, biting verbal jabs, the tiny king had finally been caught off guard with no proper response. “You can’t condone this, Weaver, can you?”

 

“It was a little showy for my taste,” I admitted, looking over at Abby and Susan who blushed in reaction. I gave them a gentle smile and looked back over at Romano. “But that kind of behavior can be counselled by the proper individuals. It doesn’t mean all love can’t, or shouldn’t, be expressed in this ER without fear of hatred or retribution.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he moaned, noticeably beginning to deflate in ego and influence in equal measure. Again, he reminded me of a toddler that had been put in time out. His arms flailed uselessly at his side for a moment. “This is… this is ridiculous, Kerry.”

 

“What’s ridiculous is you trying to push out female physicians because they’re gay,” I gritted my teeth and bared them even, an anger coming over me that not even a ginger was capable of conjuring. The remaining crowd uttered sounds of surprise and outrage. Romano looked around helplessly, a prey caught in the jaws of its predator. “You don’t see anyone trying to push short, obnoxious little imps out of here, do you? _ Do you _ ?”

 

Romano took a quick look from me, switched to the crowd, absorbing all their faces, their looks of contempt, their unreadable expressions. He uttered a wordless cry and then shoved his way through the throngs, whipping angrily into the stairwell to avoid waiting for an elevator perhaps.  Cheers and whoops of celebration rang out, blessed and beautiful.

 

“Alright, people!” I cried, waving my hands around. “This show is over. Get back to saving lives.”


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

 

Kerry

 

An excitable three year old missile crashed into my left leg at speed and caromed off, being chased by other missiles of similar age and screaming like banshees. I nearly toppled over as the force of the passing herd blew by. Of course it would be my son inciting a riot at his own birthday party. You only turn three once, after all.

 

“Henry Lopez Weaver! _Calmate_ _, por favor!_ ,” I barked in Spanish. I started learning the language shortly after his mother, my wife Sandy, died. It's been two years since I lost her and ever since it's just been me and Henry. He doesn't really remember Sandy, so I wanted to try to give him as much as his mother's culture as I could. At one point, after Sandy’s death, I considered moving away from Chicago and starting over. I couldn't bear to take Henry away from his tio Carlos, his abuela, or the rest of Sandy’s family.

 

“ _Si_ , mama,” he sheepishly replied as he settled in at a small table with three other little boys and two little girls to cram their faces full of birthday cake. I worked on my own piece of cake for a while, lost in my thoughts, until Henry’s voice rang out.

 

“Aunt Susan! Aunt Abby!” My head snapped up to see Henry jumping up and jetting over to where Susan and Abby had just walked in, Abby bearing a large wrapped gift. Susan scooped up Henry in a whirlwind hug, earning a squeal of delight from my son. They had watched Henry a lot as I recovered my mobility after surgery, and he adored them.

 

The feeling was mutual, as they adored him too.

 

“Happy birthday buddy!,” she cooed, setting his squirmy little body back down. Abby had set the gift wrapped burden down and scooped Henry up for a hug of her own before he zoomed back to his friends and cake.

 

“Thanks for coming to his birthday party,” I greeted, as they sat across from me. Five years ago, I wouldn't have said that I’d be close to either of these women, but uniting against Romano can forge strong friendships apparently. They were there for me when I had my miscarriage, when Henry was born, when Sandy died, and when I had the hip replacement that finally freed me from my crutch. I even made them promise me they'd see after my son if anything happened to me during surgery.

 

“Are you kidding? Like we’d miss any occasion that included Henry and chocolate cake,” Abby replied with a smirk.

 

“Yeah! Abby and I have some good news, so who better to celebrate it with than you and Henry,” Susan piped up, and now it was Abby that squirmed like my three year old. I arched an eyebrow to expedite whatever good news they wanted to share.

 

“Oh? And what good news is that?” They exchanged a loving glance before Abby put her left hand in front of me, revealing a perfectly gorgeous engagement ring. Abby blushed before unnecessarily stating the obvious.

 

“We’re, uh, getting married.” An excited gasp left me before I could control it.

 

“It's about time, dammit! Susan, what took you so long?” Susan let out a snort and took Abby’s ringed hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.

 

“It took me a year or so to find the courage to ask her. It took another year to find the perfect ring,” she replied, earning a smirk from Abby.

 

“As if I'd say no or scoff at the ring,” she rebutted, leaning her head on Susan’s shoulder. I gave them a warm smile and regarded my friends- my best friends- for a moment.

 

I vividly remember the day I caught them making out in the staff room. I will also never forget the day Abby, aggravated at Luka’s unwanted advances, loudly and dramatically outed them in front of Romano, a waiting room full of patients, and various staff. Even though Romano’s dead, God rest his toad soul, a bond was formed between the girls and I that day, a sisterhood I craved most of my life.

 

“Mark your calendar, Kerry, because we'd love for you to be our maid of honor and for Henry to be our ring bearer,” Susan beamed, and I couldn't help but beam back and nod. Henry chose that moment to run over and crawl up on my lap.

 

“Hey Henry, guess what? Aunt Susan and Aunt Abby are going to get married soon, and we get to help at the wedding. You get to be their ring bearer, a very important job.” I told him, eliciting a huge grin from him.

 

“Yay! Does that mean that you get to bring a date, mama?” The gall of this small child, way too smart for his own good, forever tested my patience. Before I could even respond to that, a voice I hadn't heard in many years came from the doorway.

 

“Yeah, Kerry, are you accepting applications to accompany you to the wedding?” My jaw dropped as I looked up to see Kim Legaspi there, looking as if six years hadn't even taken a toll on her beauty. Abby and Susan looked suspiciously smug at the blonde shrink’s sudden appearance. They weren't even trying to hide their involvement in this.

 

“Consider my application submitted.”

 

_Damn them._

 

“...Kim?,” I managed, trying to look a lot less flustered than I was. She still looked so beautiful, so confident and I'm sure I look like a hot mess.

 

“It's me, Ker. I'm back in Chicago. For good.”

 

I must have fallen asleep, because this is both a dream and a nightmare wrapped in one. Actually, that can't be true, because not even in my wildest dreams would this have happened. Kim Legaspi, my first girlfriend, was back in Chicago and apparently she wanted to date me again.

 

I glanced over at my best friends, together for five years now and about to get married. I simultaneously wanted to thank them and kill them for springing this on me as they quietly slipped away to get some cake.

 

“You want to be my date, Legaspi? Are you overly desperate these days?” I asked her, with no small measure of incredulous disbelief. With a warm smile, she sat next to me, Henry curling against me in my arms.

 

“I never really wanted to let you go to begin with, it seems” she admitted, giving Henry a broad grin as he shyly clung to me. I blinked at her, still in a stupor. “And who's this handsome dude?”

 

“This is my son, Henry. Henry, this is Kim. She's a doctor, like me, Aunt Susan, and Aunt Abby.” Kim’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer but asking a thousand questions with her eyes nonetheless.

 

“It's a long story,” I lamely offered. She reached over and ruffled Henry’s hair.

 

“Well, I've got all the time in the world, if you want to tell me.”

 

I couldn't help but smile at the thought of talking to Kim again, of being in her presence after so many years without it. I would never disrespect the memory of my wife, because I love Sandy deeply, but she's gone and the gaping hole in my heart isn't getting any smaller. I'd like to reconnect with Kim and maybe try to find happiness again.

 

“I’d like that.”


End file.
